Nadab, Abihu and Strange Fire

Today’s chronological Old Testament reading from Leviticus 10 is undoubtedly the best known part of Leviticus for those of us who grew up "in the church."  The story of Nadab and Abihu was as large part of why I saw myself as different from members of other “Christian” groups. (And why I felt the need to use quotation marks when using the word “Christian” in that context). Nadab and Abihu offered the unauthorized sacrifice of “strange fire” before God, and they were destroyed... just as Noah would have been destroyed if he would have used  any other wood than gopher word. Our church offered only authorized worship to God— we sang without musical accompaniment, baptized only by immersion “for the remission of sins,” and observed communion every first day of the week. Any deviation from that (and other forms and formats) would be the strange fire that burned Nadab and Abihu to a crisp. (Of course, the church down the street condemned us for introducing the strange fire of Christian camps, orphans homes and eating in the church building, but that is just silly).

(See this older post, which I had forgotten about, for a similar discussion.)

One problem with our rather narrow use of this story of Aaron's oldest sons is that we read the story and fail to read the whole context. In Leviticus 8-9, Aaron and his sons were ordained as priests. Very meticulous and somewhat strange (see 8:22-29) instructions were given for the ordination process, and these instructions were carried out to the letter. In chapter 9, Aaron begins his priestly ministry, and the first time he carried out a burnt offering, sin offering and fellowship offering as high priest, the ritual is interrupted (or rather completed) by fire coming from presence of God to consume the sacrifice (Lev. 9:23-24). That wasn’t normally part of the sacrificial procedure, and it must have been impressive. But evidently it was not impressive enough.

The tenure of Nadab and Abihu as priests wasn't very long— about two verses (Lev. 10:1-2). The text says that they offered “unauthorized fire” (NIV) or “strange fire” (NET) before the Lord. The word here is the same word for "stranger" or "foreigner" (see Deut 25:5, 32:16, etc.). A similar expression occurs in Exodus 30:9 when it condemns “other incense” ("other" is the same word as "unauthorized"). In Numbers 6, the command is given to keep the fire on the altar burning perpetually (6:12-13), but here Nadab and Abihu bring the fire for the sacrifice in their censers from some other place. Remember, the last fire on the altar  had fallen from God himself, so did they get busy or distracted and allow that fire to go out and then try to cover their sin by introducing “strange fire?”

Or did they get drunk?  Immediately following the death of Nadab and Abihu, instruction is given that priests are not to drink before serving as priests (Lev. 10:9-11). Is that a coincidence? Or does it seem probable that alcohol had clouded Nadab and Abihu’s judgment and led them to fail to "distinguish between the holy and the common." (Lev 10:10).  Whatever the case, one would think that Aaron, Eleazar and Ithamar (Aaron’s remaining sons and replacement priests) would have been very careful about sacrifice procedure from that point on.

Or maybe not?  At this point, the story gets even more interesting. Aaron and the two replacement priests were told not to mourn publically but to continue their duties as priests. When Moses checks up on them, he discovers they have not eaten their portion of the sin offering in the Tabernacle as they were required to do. Remember what happened to Nadab and Abihu when they free-lanced with the sacrificial procedure? Well, Moses comes charging in screaming, “What are you doing?” (a rather loose translation of Lev 10:17-18). Aaron replies (with a lump in his throat, we can imagine), “Today they sacrificed their sin offering and their burnt offering before the LORD, but such things as this have happened to me. Would the LORD have been pleased if I had eaten the sin offering today?” (Lev 10:19, NLT).

Aaron and his sons had not publicly mourned the death of Nadab and Abihu as they had been commanded. They had gone on with their priestly duties as they had been commanded. But they could not bring themselves to eat after witnessing their sons/brothers dying in such a horrible way. They weren't rebelling against God’s commands. It was just that human weakness and frailty would not allow them to eat. Moses was satisfied with that explanation. The absence of fire falling from sky indicates that God recognized the difference as well.

The story of Nadab and Abihu makes it very clear that it is not small thing to ignore what God has commanded and authorized. They story of Eleazar and Ithamar makes it very clear that God sees human weakness and frailty differently than willful disregard. These stories also make it clear that it is God and only God who decides between these two types of failures and whether or not the fire will fall from His presence. We would do well to take seriously both sides of this story.

Satan's Traps and the Cross

Several years ago, radio personality Paul Harvey told the story of how Eskimo hunters kill a wolf. The process is grisly, yet it offers fresh insight into our struggle with sin. Harvey says this—

First, the Eskimo coats his knife blade with animal blood and allows it to freeze. Then he adds another layer of blood, and another, until the blade is completely concealed by frozen blood. Next, the hunter fixes his knife in the ground with the blade up. When a wolf follows the scent and discovers the bait, he licks it, tasting the frozen blood. He begins to lick more and more vigorously, lapping the blade until the keen edge is bare. Feverishly now, harder and harder the wolf licks the blade in the arctic night. So great becomes his craving for blood that the wolf does not notice the razor-sharp sting of the naked blade on his own tongue, nor does he recognize the instant at which his insatiable thirst is being satisfied by his own warm blood. His carnivorous appetite just craves more-- until the dawn finds him dead in the snow!

Like the Eskimo in Harvey’s story, Satan has set his deadly traps that play to our selfish appetites. Intellectual arrogance feeds our pride. Moral relativism encourages our appetite for pleasure. Materialism and greed drives our hunger for more money and things. Our culture falls for Satan’s traps with reckless abandon, and like the wolf, people are destroyed by their own appetites.

If we are not very careful, we may also find ourselves licking the knife. The siren song of the world can be overpowering. Without realizing or desiring it, we can find ourselves believing the lie. How do we keep ourselves centered? How do we miss Satan’s traps? We avoid the traps when we focus on what is at the center of our faith-- the cross. Christianity is at the same time a philosophy, a lifestyle and a mindset. Yet all of these derive their power from a single story (1 Cor. 15:2-4, NLT)

And it is this Good News that saves you if you firmly believe it—unless, of course, you believed something that was never true in the first place. I passed on to you what was most important and what had also been passed on to me—that Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said.  He was buried, and he was raised from the dead on the third day, as the Scriptures said.

We can stress a lot of things and call them all “Christian.” But when all is said and done, the part that matters most is the message of the cross. But that message is not simply that Jesus died to save us from the guilt of our sin; the cross is also the power that saves us from being entrapped by our sin. We have been “crucified with Christ” (Gal. 2:20) so that “the body ruled by sin might be done away with” (Rom 6:6). Because we belong to Christ we “have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Gal 5:24). The cross frees us from sin’s guilt and sin’s power over our lives. We can avoid Satan’s traps when we focus on the story that is at the center of our faith.

Seed Faith

Years ago, one of our members decided that I needed a garden. I guess he figured that if I learned how to grow my own food, then the church wouldn't have to pay me so much! So he tilled up a little area in back of the church building, and came into my office a told me that I was to tend it. I didn't. So he then planted a few things for me and told me all I needed to do was water and weed it. I didn't. So he took care of my little garden for me right along with his own. Next think I knew, there were grocery sacks of vegetables sitting outside my office door. I decided that this gardening thing was pretty easy!

Of course, it isn't really easy at all. But then, God does the really hard part, right? He places the real power of growth in the seeds we plant. Sure, we plow and plant, water and wait, but God takes care of the growth. In Mark 4, Jesus used several different parables drawn from farming. The first of these, the Parable of the Sower, stresses the need for the soil to be prepared to receive God's word.  The next two parables stress that the power of spiritual growth is always God's.

• The Growing Seed (Mark 4:26-29). Jesus here uses the mystery of the growing seed to emphasize the power of God's word. The farmer does not have to understand how a seed germinates and grows; all he has to do is to trust the process. The power is in the seed, not the farmer. All by itself, the seed brings forth life. In that sense, every seed is magic. In the same way, we don't have to understand how God bears fruit in our lives. All we have to do is trust the process.
  
  
• The Mustard Seed (Mark 4:30-32). The Jews accepted as proverbial that the mustard seed was the smallest of all seeds. But the plant produced such a large shrub that birds could mistake it for a tree. What starts out very small can grow very large. Our experience in the faith may have a very humble beginning. But that small start can give rise to something very large. The seed that looks so tiny and small has the potential to grow large and strong in each one of us.

Both of these parables stress the power that the power in spiritual growth is God's. Faith grows all by itself from a small beginning into something that is very large and very strong. We don't have to understand or chart and diagram the progress. What we have to do is trust God. The process of spiritual growth can seem overwhelming. We look at where we are in our walk with God in relationship to where we need to be, and we can despair that we will ever become what God calls us to become. But there is power in the seed within us, the power to change and grow. We don't have to understand the process. All we have to do is look to the Lord of Harvest and keep watering the seed that He has placed within us.

The Presence of God

Several years ago, one of our elders and I were asked to visit the sister of one of our visitors. The brother wanted us to visit with her and invite her to church (though she refused to visit church with him). So we went. As it turns out, the lady was heavily to New Age mysticism, crystals, astral plane projection… and very likely some mind-altering chemicals. In fact, she was convinced that she had gone to heaven and talked with God. She described in great detail the warm feeling that filled her heart with love, the sweet smell of flowers and the overwhelming feeling of peace and calm. She floated, suspended in midair as she and God chatted for about an hour! Afterwards, she was filled with a sense of tranquility and oneness with the universe. For some reason, as she was talking the tune of Brewer and Shipley's “One Toke Over the Line” kept playing in my head.

Call me a skeptic, but I rather doubt she really spent time in the presence of God. Why? Well, in scripture, when people find themselves in the presence of God, they are overwhelmed not with tranquility, but with terror. Isn't that what we've been coming across in our reading in Exodus? As Israel camped at the foot of Mt. Sinai, God made his presence known on the mountain—

Mount Sinai was covered with smoke, because the Lord descended on it in fire. The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, and the whole mountain trembled violently. (Exodus 19:18)

That was the awesome presence of God. There was no sense of peace and tranquility, but of sheer terror. The scent in the air was smoke and not some flowery perfume. When God’s voice spoke the Ten Commandments from the mountain, the people were overwhelmed with shock and awe—

When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” (Exodus 20:18–19)

Frankly, many Christians are way more comfortable with a God who is easygoing, calming, and smells like daffodils than we are with the God who thunders, commands and smells like smoke. We sing songs that say “In His presence, there is comfort…” and “I can hear the brush of angel’s wings” because “surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.” And there is nothing wrong with those songs. We do come into God’s presence with “confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body” (Heb 10:19-20). But while Jesus provides the way into God’s presence, we must remember that God is the same God that shook the mountain.

And we need to remember for precisely reason Moses gave Israel for the pyrotechnics at Sinai—“ Do not be afraid. God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you to keep you from sinning” (Exo 20:20). Right after the writer of Hebrews speaks of our boldness to enter the presence of God, he says this—

If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God (Heb 10:26-27)

We need to remember that God is God and he is greatly to be feared. The fear of God, remembering who God really is, must keep us from sinning. Being in the presence of God is about many things... warm-and-fuzzy isn't one of them!

Angel

It suddenly dawned on me this morning that I hadn't done anything at all with the ol' blog in a week or so.  Today is Valentine's Day, so it makes sense that I would write something about the lady fair that has been the love of my life for most of my life.  Also, I'm still kinda pumped after spending Friday night with Lynn and the girls at the Casting Crowns concert in Virginia Beach, so it makes sense that I might write something about that.  So... I decided to combine both of those and share my new favorite Casting Crown's song "Angel" from their new album "Come to the Well." (As far as I remember, it's the only song from the new album that they didn't do in the concert!  Grrrr...)  I could have written this song.  OK, I could NOT have actually written the song (because I have no talent), but the song's sentiment and story are mine.



Not too long ago, I shared in a blog my conviction that the several and various coincidences that brought Lynn and I together were not simply coincidences at all.  And the fact that we have stayed together all of these years is no coincidence either; it has to do with a lot of patience, pardon, perseverance, prayer... and passion (it's Valentine's Day, after all).  But as crazy as it does sound, somehow this angel did fall in love with me and is somehow still in love with me.

Maybe I'm crazy but I'm praying
That an angel will love me, an angel will love me
Maybe I'm a fool but I'm still falling
Asking heaven above me, for an angel to love me
The rest of my life

Happy Valentines Day, Angel.

Super Bowl Monday

The Monday after the Super Bowl is always bittersweet for me. Almost always (and this year was no exception) it is mostly bitter because I picked the wrong dog in the fight. (The Super Bowl is always the same; the winner goes to Disney World and the loser goes home to Boston). Yep, me rooting for a team in the big game carries with it the same kind of curse as putting a player's picture on the front of the Madden box. I received a free Patriots jersey in the mail this year... from the Giants! But more than my team loosing, Super Bowl Monday is also "melancholy Monday" because means that football is over.

I've always loved football, but I really haven't followed basketball, baseball and even tennis as I have grown older. I think that is because my interest in those sports were tied from my love of playing those games whereas football has always been a spectator sport for me. With the exception of of a few weeks during March Madness (much of which is in April now) and Wimbledon (got to love strawberries and cream) in July, Super Bowl Monday for me means that sports are pretty much over until August when football comes back. The good news is that my TV watching will drop to almost nil until then. So I'll miss football for awhile; of course, there's always Mr. Madden.

I thought I'd mark the passing of football season this year by re-posting an op-ed piece from Fox News by Josh Graves entitled Is it OK to pray for your team to win Super Bowl in 2012?  Josh is the minister at the Otter Creek Church of Christ in Nashville where my sister goes to church. I think he does a pretty good job in both reminding us how unimportant sports are to God but how infinitely important we are to God.

Growing up in suburban Detroit, I never had to wrestle with the question “Is it okay for me to pray for my team to win the Super Bowl?” 

As a basketball player turned minister, I’ve observed that sport and religion have one interesting thing in common: both tend to bring out the best and worst in us. Especially in America. 

Sport has given us Jackie Robinson and Pat Summitt. Sport has also given us steroid abuse, and Ron Artest versus the world in the Malice at the Palace (Pacer-Piston NBA Brawl).

Religion has given us Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mother Teresa. Religion has also given us witch hunts, the Middle Passage, unethical T.V. preachers who prey on the naive, and the mistreatment of minorities. 

Both bring out the worst in us. Both bring out the best. I’ve learned to embrace the paradox. On November 28, 2010, Steven Johnson lined up as a wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills. On November 28, the Bills were playing the Pittsburgh Steelers and they ultimately lost the game because Johnson dropped a pass late in the game, in the end zone. After the game, Johnson tweeted, “I praise you 24/7!!! And this is how you do me!!! You expect me to learn from this??? How??? I’ll never forget this!! Ever!!” 

Johnson praised God 24/7, but what kind of God was he praising? It was a kind of religious transaction where he gives God the glory and God gives touchdowns. Or victories. Or Super Bowls. A fair exchange? 

God ends up becoming a cosmic vending machine. 

Everything is well and good until Jesus makes you fumble. But this isn’t just Johnson’s problem. This way of approaching God shows up often and the best name for it is religion. And notice who is really in charge of this arrangement. You and me. Not God. 

This year, Tim Tebow became a household name because Americans (in Red States and Blue States) have differing opinions on the role of prayer in the outcome of sporting events. After learning that Tom Brady’s super-model wife (Gisele) sent a personal e-mail to friends and family asking for prayers “for Tommy” some tweeters had a field day. My favorite tweet went something like this: It’s fine for people to pray for Tom Brady. But ever since Tom Brady threw six touchdowns against Tim Tebow’s Denver Broncos, Tim Tebow—4th member of the trinity— is no longer answering Tom’s prayers. Tebow took the wheel. 

Or how about this anecdote that surfaced recently? Tom Brady dies (he is mortal after all) and goes to heaven. St. Peter is waiting at the gate. “Tom, I’m here to show you around heaven and where you’ll be living for eternity.” After showing Brady the ins and outs of heaven, the perks and works, St. Pete takes Brady to his heavenly digs. Patriot red white, and blue are everywhere. As the odd couple approach Brady’s home, he is thankful until he notices a huge mansion on a large hill above his home with Denver Broncos regalia, signage, and decoration. Orange and Blue everywhere. The house is three times the size of his. Brady looks at St. Pete. “Let me understand this . . . I win multiple championships, MVP awards . . . this is the house I get while Tim Tebow—a great guy—has his first season in the NFL . . . and he gets that mansion? And I get this How does that work?” “Tom. Um. Well . . . Mr. Brady . . . that’s not Tim Tebow’s house. That house belongs to God.” 

We love to think God takes our side. Roots for our teams. It’s part of our American DNA.
To paraphrase Anne Lamott: You know you’ve created God in your own image when God roots for all the same teams you root for (I’m looking at you Yankee and Cowboy fans).
Here’s my short answer. Based on Christian scripture and practical experience, the purpose of prayer is for God to win. Not for you to win. Or your favorite team. Even if you are from Cleveland—though if anyone has a shot, God just might be rooting for you, Cleveland.
Millions of people all over the world will tune into the Super Bowl tonight. God’s probably not concerned with who wins the Super Bowl. God’s consumed by working on behalf of the usher who can’t figure out how to pay his chemo bill. Or the player going through a divorce. Or the assistant coach who lost his son to suicide. Or the trainer wrestling a gambling addiction. Or the recent immigrant, trying to pay one more bill by cleaning up the confetti that falls in Lucas Oil stadium. 

God sees the whole stadium, not the final score. 

God’s probably groaning for street kids in Nairobi, Kenya. God’s plotting for an end to Joseph Koney’s abduction and abuse of child soldiers in East Africa. God’s probably orchestrating hope for farmers in the Ulpan Valley, Guatemala.

God’s probably among homeless vets in Cass Park, Detroit. God’s probably grieving children victimized by abusers. 

God’s celebrating the new adventure a retiree is setting out on.


God’s smiling as God sees a new mother hold her infant son for the first time.


God’s dancing at our parties. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this game or any other game.  It also doesn’t mean you can’t pray for your team. Because God is a father, God likes to hear from us—whatever the reason, even if our prayers might be childlike in nature. 

Just don’t fall into the trap of assuming that your prayers are God’s prayers. Even if that’s your heart’s desire.

Lonesome Dove, Joseph and Us

One of the best westerns of all time is Lonesome Dove, the TV miniseries based upon the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Larry McMurty. It is the story of August McCrae and Woodrow Call, old Texas Rangers and and new cattleman who decide to make a cattle drive from Lonesome Dove, Texas to the Montana territory. Of course, they have all kinds of adventures along the way. But not long after reaching Montana, McCrae is wounded in leg by Indian arrow; he loses one leg to gangrene and needs the other amputated to save his life.  He refuses. In the scene below, the dying McCrae asks his friend Woodrow Call for one last favor.



Lonesome Dove ends with Call’s 3000 mile odyssey from Montana to Lonesome Dove, Texas to bury McCrae in Clara's orchard. Everyone he meets thinks Call was completely crazy to go to all that trouble, but he completes his mission because he gave his word to his friend.

That part of the novel/movie is based on the true-life story of best friends Oliver Loving and Charles Goodnight. Loving was scouting ahead on a cattle drive through Indian territory when he was attacked. Goodnight got to him before he died and promised to take him back to be buried in Texas, although his trek from New Mexico to Texas was nearly as dramatic as Call's odyssey from Montana. In fact, McMurtry gives Goodnight a shout-out by making him a minor character in Lonesome Dove.

But this story is also Biblical. The book of Exodus ends with Joseph charging his family to carry his bones back to Canaan for burial. He knew the promise made to Abraham (his great-grandfather), Isaac (his grandfather) and Jacob (his father). That promise was that the land in which the Patriarchs wandered as nomads would become the home of their descendants. And when Canaan became home for Israel, Joseph wanted to be buried at home. Joseph trusted the promise of God, and he wanted in on that promise. When Moses led the children of Israel out of Egypt, one of the final preparations made was to collect that old bag of bones--

Moses took the bones of Joseph with him because Joseph had made the Israelites swear an oath. He had said, “God will surely come to your aid, and then you must carry my bones up with you from this place.” (Exodus 13:19)

Joseph traveled more after his death than he ever had while he was alive. His bones were carried as the Israelites traveled to the foot of Mt. Sinai. His bones went with them as they came to banks of Jordan. His bones turned back and wandered with them through the wilderness for 40 years. And after the death of Moses, the bones of Joseph were carried into Canaan and accompanied the Israelites on the conquest of the land. Finally, after the death of Joshua, the bones of Joseph were laid to rest "beneath the green, green grass of home."

And Joseph’s bones, which the Israelites had brought up from Egypt, were buried at Shechem in the tract of land that Jacob bought for a hundred pieces of silver from the sons of Hamor, the father of Shechem. This became the inheritance of Joseph’s descendants. (Joshua 24:32)

Just an old bag of bones? No, those bones represented Joseph's faith in the promises of God. God always keeps hi s promises. Sometimes He is not as prompt as we would like; God only works on His timetable. But the promises of God always come true. Joseph counted on that; we should count on it as well!

The Real World

On July 30, 1945, the USS Indianapolis was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine and went down in the western Pacific after delivering the components of the atomic bomb that would level Hiroshima. Because of the secret nature of their mission and some administrative bungling, the Indiana was not missed. A plane flying over the area happened to spot the oil slick of a sunken ship five days later. Of the 1,196 men on board the Indianapolis, only 316 men were saved-- rest had died in the explosion, from dehydration or were taken by the sharks. Charles McVay, the captain of the Indianapolis, was blamed for the disaster (some believe to cover bureaucratic bungling) and was court-martialed. The evidence shows that McVay was not responsible, but he lived the rest of his life being blamed for those 880 deaths. Every holiday, McVay received cards or  calls saying, “My husband or father would be alive today if it were not for you.” Finally, McVay could stand it no longer. He shot himself to death with his service revolver (his last link to his military career) in 1968.

When we read a story like that, we are struck with a feeling of injustice. It was terribly unfair that McVay was blamed for deaths that were not his fault. It was terribly unfair that he was haunted to his grave by this disaster. In a fair and decent world, all of the cards and calls that he received would have been of support and gratitude for a life spent in service to his country. A fair and decent world would have acknowledged the pain he felt for the loss of his ship and crew. In a fair and decent world, people would have sought to soften his agony rather than add to it. But we don’t live in a fair and decent world; we live in the real world,  Our real world is one broken by sin and overwhelmed with injustice.

That brings us to our reading today from Genesis 38 and the story of Tamar, the wife of Er, son of Judah. The only thing we’re told about Tamar’s husband was that he was such a wicked man that “the LORD put him to death.” (Gen 38:7). The custom of levirate marriage dictated that the closest relative of a man who died before his wife bore children was to marry the widow; the first child would legally be seen as the child of the dead husband (this would later be the background for the story of Ruth). So Judah married Tamar to his second son, Onan.  Onan refused to give Tamar a child, and he too was struck down by God. Judah had a third son, Shelah, but he kept putting off marrying him to Tamar.  She told her, “Live as a widow in your father’s household until my son Shelah grows up.” (38:11).   Judah forgets about Tmar for “a long time” (38:12), and all the while Tamar’s life is in limbo while she waits for Judah to live up to his word,  He never does.

So Tamar takes matters into her own hands. She disguises herself as a temple prostitute and positions herself so that she would catch the eye of Judah, while wearing a veil so that he won’t recognize her. She seduces Judah, and they slept together. Afterward, she demanded payment, and he leaves her his staff and seal until he  can send her a goat as payment.  When Judah sent his servant back with the young goat, the mysterious temple prostitute has disappeared. It was not long before Tamar became pregnant; it was not long before that fact became obvious. Word was sent to Judah "Your daughter-in-law Tamar is guilty of prostitution, and as a result she is now pregnant" (38:24).  In a fit of unbecoming moral outrage, Judah demands that Tamar be brought out publicly and burned to death. As she was being brought out to be killed, Tamar springs her trap--

As she was being brought out, she sent a message to her father-in-law. “I am pregnant by the man who owns these,” she said. And she added, “See if you recognize whose seal and cord and staff these are.” Judah recognized them and said, “She is more righteous than I, since I wouldn’t give her to my son Shelah.” (Genesis 38:25–26)

In the only way that seemed open to her, Tamar followed the levirate marriage law that Judah had refused to enforce. Since Judah would not give her Shelah in marriage, Judah himself had in effect become her levirate husband and the father of the twin sons that she would soon bear.

Tamar lived in a real world that was unjust and unfair; she was an innocent victim powerless over her circumstances. Twice she had to live as the wife of men who were wicked; twice she had to suffer through widowhood. She had to bear with the stigma of being sent childless back to her father's house, and she had to make a choice as to how to deal with her plight. There is no doubt that her course of action was itself wrong; the text doesn’t gloss over her deception or her immorality. But what seems to be the point of this story is how God, in a very quiet way, used her plight for His purposes.

This Tamar is never mentioned again in the Old Testament (another Tamar is a daughter of David). But you don't have to read very far in the New Testament before her name pops us

Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar, Perez the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram (Matthew 1:2-3)

The genealogy of Christ is traced through Judah, but not through any of his three sons Er, Onan or Shelah. It is Tamar’s twin boys Perez and Zerah that are mented here, Perez as an ancestor of the coming Messiah. God was able to use the real world misfortunes of Tamar to His glory and His purposes. None of the twists and turns of Tamar’s real world kept her from being used by God to His glory. No, she was not perfect, but she struggled to do the best she could despite her circumstance. And despite that circumstance, even because of that circumstance, the world has a Savior.

The story of Tamar sounds like a soap opera, but it isn’t. It’s the real world. And God can use your real world story no matter how many twists and turns there may be.